The Consequence of Ice
by PrincessTiannah
Summary: In which Mr Gold learns the consequences of his actions. Rated M for mature themes. One shot.


The Consequence of Ice

The sound of smashing glass woke him from his slumber with a jump. He looked around, pulling on pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt before unhooking his cane from the bed frame and walking towards the stairs.

It was dark, but the street light outside the window illuminated the scene before him. She was sitting on his sofa, dressed and very drunk, an open bottle of his finest whiskey half empty before her, smashed glass on the floor around her feet. She was holding something in her lap, but he couldn't make it out. Her eyes were steely grey, looking at him with the hate he had seen there last night. She no longer had a spark in her eyes, her skin was sallow, her hair limp and straggly. 'Good morning, beautiful' he sneered.

'Do you know, Mr Gold' she slurred quietly, her voice deep with worn out emotion and whiskey, 'I used to think I loved you. I could never explain it, but back, before all this' she barked out a cruel laugh and waved her hands over her body in a suggestive manner. 'Before all this, when I was pretty and young and carefree, I was drawn to you, I would know if you were in the street, I always wanted to run into your arms, but your ice cold indifference to me kept me, thankfully, away.'

He hadn't moved, he was standing in his living room, watching the once beautiful girl and, truth be told, despairing at her words. What was she hiding in her lap? It seemed important, but he couldn't make it out.

'When things went bad, when my father died, I came to you, twice. I wanted to beg for your help, promise you anything to save me, but again, your cold and distant manner, your inability to even look me eye as you snapped a hello at me, assured me you would gain nothing from helping me and I walked away without a word. When I first sold my body for food, I imagined he was you. I imagined that you had come to save me, to take me away and protect me. When I cried my shame, after every cruel abuse of my body, I cried at how you could never want me now, yet still I hoped, I still imagined, I still saw your face and not theirs. Every time I saw your face.' She paused to drink, straight out of the bottle now, her tears running into her mouth along with the whiskey.

'And then, last night you came to me, and with my last spark of hope, with my last wish, I hoped that you had come to save me, but you hadn't. You abused me, like all the others, and for the first time, I opened my eyes while a man cruelly rutted against me, hoping to see love or compassion I your eyes, but they held the same, ice cold, indifferent look. I tried to kiss you, to hold you, but you held me down, held me away, and I knew then.' She raised the small silver pistol from her lap, pointing it calmly at him, her hand never wavering, despite the drink.

'B Belle' he stuttered, how could he have been so stupid, how could he not have known? He had broken her and ruined her again. At any time he could have helped her, saved her, protected her, just like she had wanted. Why hadn't he? What had he been thinking?

'Don't worry, Mr Gold' she whispered. 'This isn't for you.' She slowly and so calmly turned the gun to her head, holding it against her temple, finger over the trigger. 'I knew then,' she continued. 'I knew then that you would never save me, would never care. That all I had was myself, and what good was I?. Whatever force had called me to you, had never called you. Were you even going to pay me for tonight, Mr Gold? Don't feel bad, I took my pay in drink.' Her eyes didn't leave his as she took another long pull from the botte.

He couldn't move, he couldn't think, he couldn't get the words out fast enough. All he could do was wait for the shot to ring out and end everything. She had wanted him, cared for him, she thought she had loved him and all he gave her was ice cold stares and snapped Good mornings. When he had first seen her here, she was so happy and carefree, he stayed away, treated her the way he treated everyone, maybe a little more coldly, he couldn't stand to share space with her and not be able to touch her. She deserved her happiness, he would interrupt her life a second time. When her life had turned bad, he had wanted to go to her, offer her his heart, his everything, but he was too afraid, hoping she would come to him, and when she did, he scared her away. He watched as her life fell apart piece by piece. Watched her the first time she let a man touch her for money. He could have stepped in, but it was too late then and besides, she had a smile on her face. Of course now he knew why that smile was there, that smile was for him. And when, finally, he could stay away no longer, when he reached the point where he had to have her or die, he had treated her so badly, refused her touch, her kiss, and fucked her like the animal he always known he was.

'Belle' he spoke her name almost reverently, 'Belle, I'll save you, I'll protect you. Belle, give me a chance to prove what a fool I have been.'

Her sad eyes looked up at him and she smiled, not a genuine, beautiful Belle smile, but a sad, broken, humourless smile. 'It's too late!' She spat at him. 'Too late to even want to make believe you mean it.'

He was half way to her when the shot rang out, making him drop to his knees in the broken glass and pool of whiskey from her tumbler. He pulled her warm, but lifeless body to him and sobbed. He should have cherished her last nigh, worshipped her, and part of him had meant to, but instead he had used her and abused her, just like everyone else had. Now he would never get a second chance.

The second shot rang out as the sheriff reached the door, her knocking left unanswered.


End file.
